Hurricanes Vs. Humanity

I haven't really blogged much about the hurricane, since the only way it has directly affected me is my two friends, one of which is safe and the other I still haven't heard from - and I admit, I'm getting a little worried.

I haven't made any real political outbursts about it in the way that others around the Liberal Blogosphere has. I'm unsure that raising the levees would have prevented this, but it's always possible. I, like many other Americans regardless of political affiliation, am sickened at the way the Federal Government has (not) handled this.

It took them four hours to convene a special session of Congress - on a Sunday - over Terry Schiavo. It took them four days during a normal work week to convene one for hurricane aid. Republicans and Democrats alike, it took them four days.

But one thing I have noticed is the way people are coming together to help. New Orleans has become like a third-world country. There's corpses everywhere, armed gangs looting and raping, and tens of thousands without food. But all over the Internet and everywhere I've been in the Seattle area, there are relief stations set up for donations. We know it's bad and its getting badder, but as I sit here organizing my company's relief auctions, I can't help but think that Americans - despite the fact that the tax money we paid is being pissed away on bullshit rather than something like this - are still helping each other out. We're donating what we can.

In a way, it's a giant middle finger pointed squarely at Washington, DC. And the message is this:

"Dear Politicos. You may be squandering our money on your pork. That's OK. We'll remember that. But for now, we're showing you that we're better than you are. If you're not going to help us, we're going to help ourselves."

And in a way, that sense of united-ness gives me a warm fuzzy in a way that not many things do.

Good News From New Orleans

Karissa is OK and in Missouri. Meghan is still AWOL.

Creepy

From National Geographic, October 2004:

It was a broiling August afternoon in New Orleans, Louisiana, the Big Easy, the City That Care Forgot. Those who ventured outside moved as if they were swimming in tupelo honey. Those inside paid silent homage to the man who invented air-conditioning as they watched TV "storm teams" warn of a hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico. Nothing surprising there: Hurricanes in August are as much a part of life in this town as hangovers on Ash Wednesday.

But the next day the storm gathered steam and drew a bead on the city. As the whirling maelstrom approached the coast, more than a million people evacuated to higher ground. Some 200,000 remained, however—the car-less, the homeless, the aged and infirm, and those die-hard New Orleanians who look for any excuse to throw a party.

The storm hit Breton Sound with the fury of a nuclear warhead, pushing a deadly storm surge into Lake Pontchartrain. The water crept to the top of the massive berm that holds back the lake and then spilled over. Nearly 80 percent of New Orleans lies below sea level—more than eight feet below in places—so the water poured in. A liquid brown wall washed over the brick ranch homes of Gentilly, over the clapboard houses of the Ninth Ward, over the white-columned porches of the Garden District, until it raced through the bars and strip joints on Bourbon Street like the pale rider of the Apocalypse. As it reached 25 feet (eight meters) over parts of the city, people climbed onto roofs to escape it.

Thousands drowned in the murky brew that was soon contaminated by sewage and industrial waste. Thousands more who survived the flood later perished from dehydration and disease as they waited to be rescued. It took two months to pump the city dry, and by then the Big Easy was buried under a blanket of putrid sediment, a million people were homeless, and 50,000 were dead. It was the worst natural disaster in the history of the United States.

When did this calamity happen? It hasn't—yet. But the doomsday scenario is not far-fetched. The Federal Emergency Management Agency lists a hurricane strike on New Orleans as one of the most dire threats to the nation, up there with a large earthquake in California or a terrorist attack on New York City. Even the Red Cross no longer opens hurricane shelters in the city, claiming the risk to its workers is too great.

Admittedly ripped off from Daily Kos, but no less relevant.

And no less creepy.

No More Secrets

Apparently you can now spam people in blog comments. Who knew?

So, I'm going to have to disable anonymous commenting. My apologies.

I Am A Graverobber

Thinking about the dead fish this morning (and, by a strange extension, my sushi lunch today) made me think about other dead fish. When I was a youngin', I had goldfish. As goldfish do, they died. I remember distinctly burying the goldfish in the backyard. And I remember, just as distinctly, digging up the grave a year or so later to see what the goldfish looked like.

There was no goldfish when I dug up the grave.

To this day, I've always wondered what happened to it.

Decomposition? Carried off by a wild animal? I'll never know.

But I do feel just a teensy bit guilty for opening that grave.

Welcome to Crazytown

I think the world is slowly going crazy.

I have no real scientific evidence to support this, just a general gut-feeling.

I deal with a lot of people and personalities in my job, both in the wilds of cyberspace and in real life. In the last few weeks - since, say, the beginning of August - I've noticed people getting just a little bit touchier. It's almost as if they don't have patience anymore. There's a sense of desperation in the things they say and do.

Twice since the beginning of the week have other drivers been malicious towards me. The most vicious, senseless, and alarming: when I pulled into the loading zone in front of Liz's office to wait for her, some cuntrag in an SUV pulls up behind me and starts honking at me - even though my blinkers are on. I wave her around and she keeps on honking. As she drives around, she tells me "nice parking place!" and circles the lot, and then comes back to flip me off.

That, by the way, was the incident that precipitated me wanting to beat her with the umbrella (see yesterday's post).

I am more than willing to grant that this could all be a coincodence. I'm not convinced, though. Fewer Americans support the War in Iraq now more than ever. Driving has become downright inconvenient and expensive - and I'm only filling up a little Mitsubishi that gets a good 27 miles to the gallon most days, not a big old gasguzzler. Hurricane Katrina just wiped one of my favorite cities off the map, and I haven't heard from my two Louisiana friends since this all started.

Maybe it's just a perfect storm of events in my life, but it sure as hell seems like we're getting a little bit loonier these days.

Fishpocalypse

I woke up this morning to the sight of four dead fish and one fish that seems to have gone completely missing. Not a good thing for an aquarium owner. I can only hope that the missing fish was raptured out of the aquarium before fishmageddon.

Apparently I've been overfeeding them, since there's a lot of extra food everywhere.

It sucks that something died by my hand. Even more so because I was being irresponsible - I thought I had the feeding and temperature thing down to where I didn't have to pay quite as close attention to it each morning. Apparently, I was wrong.

Sad panda.

You Can Take My Sword When You Pry It From My Cold Dead Fingers!

Stories like this one involving people fighting off robbers with samurai swords make my methods of home defense seem much less geeky.

One From the Vault

In lieu of real new content, I present to you old content from Arch's website a million years ago.

Driving Problems
by Nuke-Toting Psycho

Well, last week I was driving see, and oh yeah, I guess I should tell you that I'm the world's best driver see, well anyway, last week I was driving along, going the speed limit, obeying all the traffic laws 'cause hey, that's the kind of guy I am, and like I said, I'm the world's best driver, well anyway, I'm cruising down the street, and the light in front of me is green, and the cars aren't going anywhere, so I'm thinking to myself, what the heck is all this? well anyway, I was going nowhere fast, so I look up ahead and see a car waiting to turn left, and I'm thinking, man, can't this guy read the sign that says "No Left Turn?" and what is his problem anyway, well anyway, I'm thinking all these thoughts and everyone behind this guy, me included, get screwed out of a green light because he thought he had to turn left, and he had to wait for all the other cars to go by on the other side of the road, and no one could get around him because it was a two-lane street, and I'm thinking, hey, what is this guy's malfunction? well anyway, as I'm sitting there, I realize that since I'm the best driver in the world and all, I might as well be the one telling people how to drive, so I drove to the closest weapons store and bought myself a rocket launcher and a bunch of rockets, and paid by credit card 'cause I don't usually carry that much cash on my personage, and went out into the street and drove around some more, 'cause hey I'm the world's greatest driver, and right as I'm pulling out and going the exact speed limit, some other driver pulls out right in front of me, cutting me off, and I looked in my rearview mirror and there wasn't anyone back there, so I start thinking, man, what's this guy's malfunction, its not like he had to cut me off or anything, so I shot his car with a rocket and it exploded in a huge fireball and drove off the side of the road, and after that I pulled up alongside and got out and the guys charred remains were sticking out of the car, so I kicked them and asked him just where cutting me off got him anyway, and like I said, I'm the greatest driver ever, well anyway, I got back in my car and drove off, happy that I had taught a driver a valuable lesson, and I'm getting on the freeway, and I'm minding my own business in the right lane like I'm supposed to, and I go to pass someone and this stupid woman in a pickup truck comes speeding out of nowhere and sits like two inches off my bumper, and I'm in the left lane and I'm thinking fine, she wants to pass me, so I get back over and she speeds around me and starts tailgating the next guy in the left lane, and now I'm getting a little upset, and then she cuts me off because she needs to pass him on the right, and I'm thinking woman you aren't pregnant, its not like you need to drive like that, so I pull out my rocket launcher and send some hot fiery death her way, and sure enough the truck explodes in a glorious little mushroom cloud and I pull over and she is still alive but twitching a little and I say, hey, you know I'm the world's greatest driver and you were being dangerous, someone could have gotten hurt or killed back there, and she just screamed about how much the flames hurt her, and I looked at her and said maybe you shouldn't drive like that and people wouldn't be shooting rockets at you and then got in my car and drove off, and it was about this time that I realized that since I was the greatest driver in the world, that I would have to be the one to teach everyone else, so anyway I bought myself a nuke and here I am with it wired to me, and there are some cops below who keep shouting things like don't do it and it's OK and there is more to life and all that, well anyway, they are all pretty bad drivers compared to me and that is why I'm going to press this little button and teach everyone in a 20 mile radius how to drive.

I was inspired to dig for this by encountering such great stupidity yesterday that I contemplated beating a person to death with an umbrella.

106 Miles

Last night, I caught up with a gaggle of folks from the office to catch the 25th Anniversary screening of The Blues Brothers. I've seen the movie probably a dozen times, but it was still fun to watch it on the big screen and hang out with friends. They had a live Q and A session with Dan Aykroyd, John Landis, James Brown, Henry Gibson, and a couple of others, projected into the theater through the miracle of digital somethingorother.

Sadly, the movie itself seemed to just be the DVD played on the big screen - which meant that, at times, the digital artifacting and pixellation were quite obvious. I was disappointed they didn't use a film print, since I very much would have liked to see how it was supposed to look in a theater.

That being said, it was still a most excellent time!

Welcome to SUV City

Via Andrew Sullivan, a short film called SUV City, exploring the various kinds of people and their reasons for driving enormous, gas-guzzling vehicles that infringe on the rights of everyone around them.

Peacemakers Rarities

Let's say you're looking for rare tracks from the Peacemakers or The Refreshments. Try this site, which has the entire Seattle Demos, a bunch of B-sides and unreleased tracks, and more live tracks than you can shake a stick at.

Saturday and Sunday

I love it when I'm running around my driveway at six in the morning, trying to haul the recycling bin to the curb because I forgot to put it out last night.

Anyway.

I spent most of Saturday cleaning the house. I sold off one of the two video games that came with this place (it's OK, I still have Pole Position), and helped move it to a co-worker's place Saturday morning. After that, I came back and cleaned. We let this place go a little too much; it took us most of the day to get it back to normal.

Yesterday I spent most of my day at the company picnic, helping set it up and having a good time with my coworkers. A fair number of people showed; it certainly wasn't like the last time we did this (2003) where the entire office was there. I threw the diet to the wind and gorged myself on cheap beer, cookies, and cake; I'm paying for it this morning, but I figure one day of dietary debauchery since March isn't going to kill me. It just means I'm going to have to bust my ass even harder at the gym this week.

Before I sign off, Meghan and Carissa and anyone else near the Big Easy - I hope you're safe and dry, and when you go back to your places of living, everything is OK!

Concert: Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers at the Tractor Tavern, August 26 2005

I got back at 1:30 this morning. In typical Jason fashion, it's 8 and I'm wide awake. My ears are still ringing a little and I think I'm a tad hung over, my eyes are burning and my throat still feels like it's bleeding a little, but goddamn it was worth it.

What a great show.

I've been waiting since 1996 (since I missed them at Edgefest in Tulsa that year) to see The Refreshments or Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers live.

The venue was pretty much standing room only, so getting there when we did was a good idea. I got our shirtshopping out of the way and ran the goods back to the car. The opening act was decent but nothing special. The band took the stage about 10:30, and went until about 12:45 - two hours and fifteen minutes of music, and they usually played nonstop, moving right from one song into the next.

They started working the crowd, picking up on the mood, and getting people to sing almost right away. They mixed Peacemakers and Refreshements songs in fairly even quantity, and I surprised myself by knowing the lyrics to most of the Peacemakers songs they played (except for the ones off Sonoran Hope and Madness, their one album I don't particularly care for). They did a two-song encore with Jack vs. Jose and Nada, so I got to hear every song I wanted to hear excecpt for one, and I'll just have to go to another show to hear it I suppose.

It was hot, sweaty, crowded, and generally a great time. Roger is surprisingly interactive with the crowd, and the crowd surprised me by very much being fans - people all around us were singing along, knew exactly when to belt out the good bits, and were having a great a time as I did. Angela, John, Travis, and Liz all came along and agreed that it was an excellent show (Liz got her first concert t-shirt!) I did manage to get some pictures:

The crowd sported appropriate hats.



"So just how far down do you want to go?"



"The good guys, and they bad guys, well they never work past noon around here."



"I tip the bottle and bite the lime!"

Thanks again, guys: I'll catch you the next time you're in town!

Anyone Up for a Bedtime Story?

And who says there's no good children's stories anymore?

Making Your Art Work For You

A website where you can sell copies of photos you took, for money. Cool, eh?

Cop Motor, Cop Shocks, Cop Brakes

In preperation for next Monday's 25th Anniverary screening of one of my all-time favorite films, The Blues Brothers, I offer a link to three lost audio tracks from the original film.

Cyber Temple

It appears that my few faith, Flying Spaghetti Monsterism, has an online church.

The Revolution Begins On Friday Morning

My company makes its home in an innocuous, two-story office building in downtown Bellevue. Looking from the outside, you'd never know there was a game company in there - unless you got close enough to the windows to witness our frivolity of course.

The upper portion of our building has remained mostly empty for the two and a half years I've been here. About six months ago, some construction project started upstairs. The floors are thin enough that we've been privvy to every hammer, drill, and loud noise they could possibly make (I even managed to identify a tile saw one day). This was all in preperation for a Real Estate agency moving in upstairs. Gamers. Real Estate Agents. This could get interesting.

So this morning, I drove into my office parking lot and taking up my normal parking space was a gigantic Ford pickup truck. This is one of those extended cab models with a bed big enough to land helicopters, that get 13 miles to the gallon if they extend the solar sail. It wasn't just taking up my parking space, it was taking up the parking space next to it as well. And it was parked so poorly that it stuck out so far into the regular lane that I could barely get around it in my little Galant. I checked; the front end was a good three feet from the end of the parking spot.

If that isn't the pinnacle of American arrogant consumer egoism, at least it's the symbol of it.

So I left a note on the windsheild: IF YOU'RE GOING TO SUPPORT OSAMA WITH YOUR TRUCK, AT LEAST LEARN TO PARK IT.

Update: It belonged to a woman who drove off after reading the note and scowling.

She didn't learn her lesson and abandon her vehicle in favor of a hybrid? Damn. The Revolution is flawed!

SimZombie

Here's a zombie simulator: a program that tracks the spread of a theoretical zombie outbreak through a city.

Peacemakers This Friday

If you're planning on joining me to see Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers this Friday at the Tractor Tavern (great name, eh?), be aware that you can buy tickets online. Also be aware that the doors open at 8, the show starts at 10, and I will likely be there around 8:30 to catch the warmup band. Look for the longhaired guy with the cute girl ready to rock out to some good tunes.

What Kind of Teh Gamar Are You?

Now here's a big surprise:

You scored as Storyteller. You're more inclined toward the role playing side of the equation and less interested in numbers or experience points. You're quick to compromise if you can help move the story forward, and get bored when the game slows down for a long planning session. You want to play out a story that moves like it's orchestrated by a skilled novelist or film director. Storyteller 100% Method Actor 67% Power Gamer 50% Butt-Kicker 33% Specialist 33% Tactician 33% Casual Gamer 17% Law's Game Style created with QuizFarm.com

Via Scott.

Anti-War Protestors, Beware

Sorry for all the political posts lately, but it seems like there's a growing discontent - and desperation - that is happening behind the scenes in our country.

It saddens me to read that the American Legion has advocated "an end to all public protests and media events against the war," and worse, to use "whatever means necessary to ensure the united backing of the Americna people to support our troops and the global war on terrorism."

There's two things wrong with this. First, being against the war is not the opposite of supporting our troops. We're not spitting on soldiers when the come home. Quite the contrary - when my former classmates and friends come back alive, it helps me sleep better at night. There are at least two people currently in Iraq that I count as friends, and one more that could be in Iraq or Afghanistan - I haven't heard from since before the war, so I have no idea where he is, and his unit is the kind that moves around quite a bit.

These are guys I know, guys who signed up in the military thinking they were going to protect the United States. That's exactly what we did in Afghanistan, but Iraq - no way. And two of those current soldiers have told me that it's a fucking waste. There's a former soldier in my office who feels exactly the same way. The sense of betrayal is plain sickening.

So guess what, Republicans: I'm the one supporting the troops. Your blind obedience to your President is what's hurting them and betraying their trust. You have no one to blame but yourselves.

The second thing is that the freedom to protest in a peaceful manner is exactly the kind of freedom those soldiers are putting their asses on the line to protect. One of the good things that has come out of Haliburton's $60 billion in contracts (AKA the Iraq war) is that the Iraqi people are now free to express their minds in ways that they could not under Saddam, because they were threatened with violence should they publically gather and speak out against the government.

Have we given them that ability, only to have it taken away from us in exchange for some twisted view of patriotism?

Whether it's from a private group or the government itself, if I cannot publically assemble and speak a view contrary to that of the current administration, then we might as well put down our guns, because the war is fucking over.

And our Mission is Not Accomplished.

Ground Control to Major Tom

What's a great movie to watch today?

Why, how about one showing how dust devils form and move on Mars?

Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammo!

I think I found a new religion: Flying Spaghetti Monsterism!

Ia! Ia!

Why I Respect Veterans

Not only do they serve our country and make sure people like myself have a safe place in which to write all the bullshit I write, but they have the balls to call it like it is - in front of the President, no less.

Link from Daily Kos.

Recommended Reading: Delta Green

Since I spent a considerable amount of time cooped up on aircraft this weekend, I spent a considerable amount of time reading. Jon loaned me the first collection of Delta Green short stories, and it blew me away.

Delta Green is a Call of Cthulhu setting where a vast government conspiracy is trying to fight against the usual Cthulhu horrors: Deep Ones, the Mi-Go, Colors Out of Space, etc. But the quality of these stories rocked my world. I was expecting the usual gamer fan-fiction, but the authors did an incredible job of nailing not only the mythos, but the grinding and complete horror at trying to fight it, and of humanizing the insanity knowledge causes. Standouts were Greg Stolze's Potential Recruit, hands-down probably the best Cthulhu-cult-ish story I've read, and Blair Reynolds' Operation Looking Glass.

I find myself thinking one of two things when I read a book: either "I can do better than this," or "damn, I wish I could do this." This Delta Green anthology was definately a "I wish..." book.

Wanna Playtest?

Are you a gamer? Do you want to test-drive an RPG system based on resource management mechanics rather than random dicerolling mechanics? If so, download >Crescent City, my homebrew Tarot-based game and system, and comment here or at the email address at the end of the document.

The Post-GenCon Report

Got in at midnight last night. This is my story and I'm sticking to it.

The flight out was uneventful but I was stressed all the same: for some reason, it was booked so I arrived an hour before the big presentation I give at every one of these shows. This presentation was the biggest of the big: a major announcement, 200+ volunteers, and most of the company. It took me a couple of minutes to hit my stride (I psyched myself out too much and blew some of the introductions), but I think it's one of the best ones I gave - and it's so strange how introverted little Jason has become someone who can not only speak in public, but is kind of good at it.

Friday and Saturday I spent doing meetings with press every hour on the hour. I got a few minutes to walk about and look at stuff, but not much more than that until Sunday. I managed to play a game of HeroClix late in the day on Friday, and we had our big Mage Knight bash Friday night - a kind of bittersweet event. It was really cool seeing some of the old players come to hang out and talk about the game for a while.

And of course, I ate the Cincinnatti chili and hit the Ram, who have now taken their cool custom menus and sold them out to sponsors who have slapped their logos on everything. I couldn't bring myself to buy one for the new price of $5.50, when they have been free the last two years. Everything falls apart, as they say.

The main thing that sticks out in my mind about this event is that there wasn't really anything "must-have, super-cool, etc." The Serenity RPG sold out quickly and I wasn't willing to fight the psychotic fans for a lame paperback copy. I already ordered the Game of Thrones RPG. Axis and Allies was OK, but it's not my thing. Unlike last year and the year before, there just wasn't anything supergroovy I wanted.

However, I did make some good contacts - one of the guys from The Forge and I are going to exchange some emails, I might have found some more writing work, and I even discovered that some of my past work had been printed without them telling (or paying) me!

At least it's a notch in my belt.

Here's One for the PR Portfolio

Four gorgeous models playing HeroClix coached by four HeroClix geeks: it's HeroChix! Higher-speed Internet connection recommended. And a strong shot of tequila.

Attention Humanity: What the Fuck is Wrong With You?

In the last twenty-four hours, I hear about some sick fuck running over ducks for 15 minutes at a car wash, some other sick fuck running over crosses representing slain soldiers at the peace vigil in Crawford, Texas, and some guy who lives around here who is taking the furry lifestyle just a little too far.

A Monetary Matter

Because it came up at work today, I thought I'd link to a great picture of the $2 bill, my favorite US bill in terms of the artistic design on the reverse.

Sunday, Groovy Sunday

I spent most of the day yesterday playing in a D&D game at James.' The game was run by another James, and attended by yet a third James. It was a James-a-riffic day. I forgot how fun (and annoying at the same time) a first-level d20 game can be - like when one shot from an enemy puts you at -2 hit points and you spend the rest of the combat bleeding.

Yes, I am a geek and take no pains to hide it.

Today I'm back at the workaday grind. We got our unpopular announcement out of the way nice and early this week, so we can focus on more fun stuff later.

On a completely different note, my zombie in Urban Dead is fast becoming Jesus Christ Superzombie!

Movie: The Devil's Rejects

For all the hype, there was surprisingly little gore in this movie. And considering it's a follow-up to House of 1000 Corpses, there was very little in the way of shock either. Schlock yes, shock no.

After the events in House, the evil cannibalistic sadistic etc.-ic Firefly family takes their freakshow on the road, hunted by a Sheriff determined to kill them all and make them know the pain they have visited upon others. The Sheriff-serial killer relationship is byfar the most interesting thing in the movie, because the Sheriff is never a "good" person insofar as he tries to follow the letter of the law - he simply wants to stop the killings and sees himself as a hand of justice or divine retribution as much as the killers see themselves as doing the Devil's work.

Also, I'll never hear "Freebird" without thinking about the end of the movie.

Sicky Poo

I'm now ready to subscribe to Jeff's Health Care Plan: Don't Get Sick.

I spent most of the day yesterday either sleeping, on the toilet (ahem), or trying very hard not to throw up. I went into work for about three hours in the morning, but I think I may have caused more trouble than I solved by being in the office. At 11, I felt like the grim reaper was knocking on my skull, so I vacated the premisis, came home, and slept until about 7 this morning, with a brief intermission to drive two blocks to the grocery store for some bread and chicken noodle soup (thank GOD for a store two blocks away!)

Today, I feel better, but not quite 100%. I'm going to be taking it easy today, piddling around and enjoying my weekend off. There's a sale at a local pet store this morning, so I'm going to stock my aquarium with some fish.

Tooting My Own Horn

It actually looks like some of the RPG writing I did might be published. All Flesh Must Be Eaten is finally publishing Deadworlds, and they blurbed mine in the ad copy!

Movie: City of God

It's just your standard movie about 10-year-olds killing 5-year-olds.

OK, not really. But that's in there.

Wow.

Liz added this one to the Netflix queue, although I heard really good things myself and wanted to see it. It basically follows a gang war in Rio in the 1970s (a true story, I might add) through the eyes of a wannabe photographer. The characters are all pretty awful, and it's violent as hell, but incredibly well-filmed.

I doubt I'll ever want to watch it again, but it was certainly worth two hours and ten minutes.

How to Win an Online Fight

He who writes the largest, wins.

Survive This Suckas

I scored 75% on the zombie survival test. Will you make it out with me, or are you zombie chow?

Movie: National Treasure

On Seth's recommendation, I blind-bought National Treasure. It was worth every penny.

The closest thing it reminded me of was Cloak and Dagger, a movie I spent a lot of my childhood watching. It's clean - not a curse word to be found - and relatively violence-free (some shooting). I would let kids watch it, and they would have as much fun as I did. Additionally, it read exactly like I thought it might: like an RPG adventure that I'd write.

Mindless, clean, and incredibly fun.

Gaming Fun

Brook sent this to me today. Gamers will get it, others may be left in the cold.

250 things Mr. Welch can no longer do during an RPG

1. Cannot base characters off the Who's drummer Keith Moon.
2. A one man band is not an appropriate bard instrument.
3. There is no Gnomish god of heavy artillery.
4. My 7th Sea character Boudreaux is not 'Southern' Montaigne.
5. Not allowed to blow all my skill points on 1pt professional skills.
6. Synchronized panicking is not a proper battle plan.
7. Not allowed to use psychic powers to do the dishes.
8. How to serve Dragons is not a cookbook.
9. My monk's lips must be in sync.
10. Just because my character and I can speak German, doesn't mean the GM can.
11. Not allowed to berserk for the hell of it, especially during royal masquerades.
12. Must learn at least one offensive or defensive spell if I'm the sorcerer.
13. Must not murder canon NPCs in their sleep, no matter how cliche they are.
14. Ogres are not kosher.
15. Plan B is not automatically twice as much gunpowder as Plan A.
16. I will not beat Tomb of Horrors in less than 10 minutes from memory.
17. Collateral Damage Man is not an appropriate name for a super hero.
18. When surrendering I am to hand the sword over HILT first.
19. Drow are not good eating.
20. Polka is not appropriate marching music.
21. No longer allowed to recreate the Death Star Trench Run out of genre.
22. There is no such thing as a Gnomish Pygmy War Rhino.
23. Any character who has a sensitivity training center named after him will be taken away.
24. Even if the rules allow it, I am not allowed to summon 50,000 Blue Whales.
25. The green elf does not need food badly.
26. Valley speak has no place in a fantasy setting. Especially if you're the paladin.
27. I am not to shoot every corpse in the head to make sure they aren't a zombie in Twilight 2000.
28. The Goddess' of Marriage chosen weapon is not the whip.
29. I cannot have any gun that requires me to continue the damage code on back.
30. I am not to kill off all the vampires in the LARP, even if they are terminally stupid.
31. The backup trap handler is not whoever has the most HP at the time.
32. I cannot buy any animal in groups of 100 or over.
33. There is no such skill as 'improvised cooking'
34. I am not allowed to base any Droid off any character played by Joe Pesci.
35. I am not allowed to convince the entire party to play R2 units.
36. I am not allowed to convince the entire party to sit on the same side of the table.
37. They do not make black market illegal cyberweapons for rodents.
38. When investigating evil cultists not allowed to just torch the decrepid mansion from the outside.
39. Gnomes do not have the racial ability 'can lick their eyebrows'
40. Gnomes do not have the racial ability to hold their breath for 10 minutes.
41. Gnomes do not have the racial ability 'impromptu kickstand'
42. Having a big nose adds nothing to my seduction check.
43. No longer allowed to set nazi propaganda music to a snappy disco beat.
44. Not allowed to spend all 100 character points on 100 1pt skills.
45. My character names are not allowed to be double entendres.
46. Sliver rhymes with silver because the computer frelling says so.
47. They do not make Nair in wookie sizes.
48. The elf is restricted to decaf for the rest of the adventure.
49. Not allowed to blow up the Death Star before that snotty farm kid gets his shot.
50. Not allowed to use thermodynamic science to asphyxiate the orcs' cave instead of exploring it first.
51. No longer allowed to use the time machine for booty calls.
52. My bard does not know how to play Inna Godda Davida on marachas.
53. Not allowed to start a drow character weighing more than a quarter ton.
54. Cannot pimp out other party members.
55. Before facing the dragon, not allowed to glaze the elf.
56. No matter how well I roll, a squirrel cannot carry a horse and rider at full sprint.
57. In the middle of a black op I cannot ask a guard to validate parking.
58. Expended ammunition is not a business expense.
59. Not allowed to pose the Netrunner in embarrassing positions when he's on a run.
60. Not allowed to short sheet the bedroll of impotent dieties.
61. Can only taunt the ranger about his lack of swimming after my USCG E8 saves him.
62. I am not allowed to do anything I saw Han Solo do once.
63. No, I cannot buy 10,000 marbles even if I say please.
64. My paladin's battle cry is not "Good for the Good God"
65. There is no Summon Bimbo spell.
66. Not allowed to start a character that speaks every language except ones the party speaks.
67. There is no Kung Fu manuever "McGuire Swings For Bleachers"
68. Bring him back intact includes redundant organs.
69. There is more to wizardry than magic missile. Even if I can do 200 damage automatic with no save.
70. Not allowed to cook up nerve gas in the sink even if the target number is 5.
71. There is no 'annoy' setting on a phasor
72. Not allowed to start a character who is over 100 years old unless he's an elf or dwarf. Humans are right out.
73. Not allowed to name my cudgel Ceremonial Whoopass Stick.
74. My thief's battle cry is not "Run And Live"
75. Nor is it "You take care of the orcs, I take care of the traps"
76. I am not allowed any artistic license while translating.
77. I did not get my super powers from James T. Kirk.
78. Not allowed to commission a pistol that costs more than a sedan.
79. I am not liquid metal.
80. When accepting a challenge for a duel, I must allow the other guy time to find a pistol.
81. A picture of my ex-wife is not an acceptable backup weapon.
82. Victory laps after killing the dragon with my 1d2 bow is considered in poor taste.
83. My gnome does not like big butts and he cannot lie.
84. Not allowed to talk my fellow inquisitors into buying a 220lb pull crossbow.
85. Not allowed to talk my fellow inquisitors into buying an industrial strength flamethrower.
86. Not allowed to make a superhero with a 99% chance of dodging even after the -10 penalty for a successful called shot.
87. There is no such thing as a dwarven katana.
88. My bard does not get a bonus to perform if she is obviously not wearing anything under her tabard.
89. The elf's name is not Legolam.
90. My swashbuckling fop cannot take the flaw Dark Secret: Not Gay
91. A wet towel does not constitute an improvised weapon.
92. The name of the weapon shop is not "Bloodbath and Beyond"
93. I am to remind my DM that he must never, ever give my paladin a dire boar for a mount again.
94. I cannot base my ancient kung fu master on neither Gene Simmons or Bluto Blutarski.
95. I must not put the Thunder God on the spot again.
96. No making up polearms.
97. My one wish cannot be 'I wish everything on this piece of paper was true'
98. There is no such thing as Speed Polka.
99. Not allowed to see if Jedi can parry a shotgun blast with their lightsaber.
100. When any character from a d20 sourcebook is allowed, that doesn't include System Lords.
101. I am not allowed to pave ANYTHING.
102. I am not authorized to start any civil engineering project on the taxpayer's dime.
103. There is no such thing as a Club +3 of Cup Checks
104. Nor is there a +1 Longsword, +5 against party members.
105. I am not allowed to polymorph anyone into Abe Vigoda.
106. I do not have weapon profiency in cat.
107. There is no such game as Wereshark the Buffet.
108. No, I do not get XP for every single crewman on that Star Destroyer.
109. Not allowed to kill a vampire with any part from a DC-10 larger than my car.
110. Not allowed to serenade the party even if my character has an internal tape deck.
111. I did not pick the garrote skill last week from my grandmother.
112. If the gun can't fit through the x-ray machine, it doesn't go on the plane.
113. My Droid is not allowed to paraphrase any Jack Nicholson soliloquy.
114. The Demilich only falls for getting stuffed in the bag of holding once.
115. My musical instrument does not double as a personal flotation device.
116. Not allowed to take a coffee break during the final super villain showdown.
117. I am restricted to memorizing Floating Disc only once per day.
118. I will pick a more traditional paladin weapon instead of a sledgehammer.
119. My character's names cannot be anagrams of playboy playmates.
120. Not allowed to kill another party member with a boomerang again.
121. I am not a contractor for Dragon Cave Cleaning Services Inc.
122. The paladin's alignment is not Lawful Anal.
123. Not allowed to forget to mention traps when the powergamer has point.
124. I cannot insert the words "Kill Phil, Sorry Phil" into any list of instructions.
125. Lingerie can only snap coincidentally so many times per day.
126. Dwarves do not count as burrowing animals.
127. Not allowed to download AOL 6.0 on the Arasaka mainframe.
128. Polka Gnomes exist only in my mind.
129. Not allowed to name my ship The Antidisestablishmentarianism.
130. I am not authorized to form the head.
131. Not allowed to bet how many times the lich bounces.
132. There is no such feat called "Death Blossom"
133. My acrobat cannot balance on the warlord's head for more than one round.
134. The King's Guards official name is not "The Royal Order of the Red Shirt"
135. I cannot demand payment in electrum, backrubs or bubblewrap.
136. I cannot start the 7th Sea campaign with 3 confirmed Drachen kills.
137. I do not have a scorching case of lycanthropy.
138. If the mere thought of it costs the others sanity, I'm forbidden from doing it.
139. My bard is required to take levels in the perform skill and cannot 'just play by ear'
140. The Dutch language does not exist in the Forgotten Realms.
141. My maid does not know kung fu.
142. Not allowed to give a 4 year old a sugar rush just to jack up the CR later.
143. Not allowed to by a holy symbol for every god just in case one of them is right.
144. There is no such thing as pleather armor.
145. I cannot go back in time to cut in line at the Declaration of Independence so everybody now is asked for their Terrence E. Woczinski when signing documents.
146. Not allowed to play an Australian in any game set before 1600.
147. Hobbits are not allowed to have Norse ancestry.
148. There is no Gnomish Deathgrip, and even if there was, it wouldn't involve tongs.
149. Looting the unguarded baggage train is not considered a glorious victory.
150. Not allowed to create recreational drugs in suppository format.
151. Halflings do not have a racial proficiency with the flamethrower.
152. When the guy is at -9 HP is not the best time for my cleric to convert him.
153. I will not propose to every noblewoman at the royal ball until I crit my charisma check.
154. I am not allowed to rub the monk's head for luck.
155. I am not allowed to rub any part of the elf chick for any reason.
156. When one person forgets to buy rations eating the half-elf is not our first option.
157. Any capital scale weapon is not 'my little friend'.
158. I will not declare myself a god just so I can grant myself spells.
159. Airlocks do not double as trash disposals.
160. I will not load any gatling weapon with nothing but paint rounds.
161. I will not nail every single female party member except for the elf chick played by that creepy guy.
162. What ever monster we just killed is not to be tonight's dinner.
163. Not allowed to try and make a dire version of any dog of the toy breeds.
164. I am not to tattle to the halfling assassin's mom about his career choice.
165. I am forbidden from replacing anything with folger's crystals to see if they notice.
166. Not allowed to bribe the enemy commander into withdrawing with a stolen Elvis LP collection.
167. I was not recruited by Star League for any reason.
168. I was also not recruited by 12 dwarves and a wizard to rob a dragon.
169. I am neither the pagan god nor goddess of fertility.
170. I cannot name my character Xagyg or any anagram thereof.
171. My character's dying words are not allowed to be "Hastur, Hastur, Hastur"
172. At no point can I justify spending force points on a seduction check.
173. I am not allowed to recreate Veers' March of the AT-ATs on Zhentil Keep.
174. There is no use of Shatner's spoken word album that doesn't require a humanity check.
175. I am not directly descended from either Huey Lewis or any member of the News.
176. I cannot make called shots to the plectrum, anvil, stirrup, hammer or Isle of Langerhans.
177. Stinking cloud is a privilege, not a right.
178. There are no profanities in Celestial.
179. Chummer means he is my friend, not that sharks find him tasty.
180. I have neither the touch nor the power.
181. I cannot quote Shakespeare in Crinos.
182. No figuring out the plot and killing the actual villain five minutes into the adventure.
183. There are no rules for cooking corn dogs in any d20 supplement.
184. A starting character has no need for 100gp worth of hemp rope.
185. My bard does not need roadies for a dungeon crawl.
186. No cutting line to be a god.
187. I cannot gain more than three drama die per session for making the GM pee.
188. I cannot play a elf with a scottish accent, nor a cajun dwarf.
189. Tourretes is not a flaw, it is a reason to kill the character at creation.
190. Duel wielding small animals is strictly forbidden.
191. My character is not related in anyway to Boba Fett. This goes double for Star Wars characters.
192. If the gun is best fired using the artillery skill, my character is not allowed to have it.
193. Not allowed to kill vampires with seismic charges.
194. When the other guy picks swords for the choice of weapons, that does not leave me pistols.
195. I cannot use a silent feat enambled power word stun and blame it on the dog.
196. I cannot name a character anything that I can't say politely in another country.
197. My epic level character cannot take on the minor goblin menace to his country just to stay sharp.
198. Not allowed to steal my own soul.
199. My third wish cannot be 'I wish you wouldn't grant this wish'
200. I cannot name my character cliche canon characters from other systems.
201. My thief is prohibited from speaking solely in Cant.
202. Character descriptions cannot contain two of the following words: Slavic, Tonedeaf, Karaoke, Musician.
203. My superhero's strength is not classified as snazzy, neato or bodacious.
204. I am not too sexy for the elf, too sexy for the elf, so sexy myself.
205. My 3rd ed. Red Wizard is not allowed to start a business named Thay Co.
206. I cannot forge a +1 sword of Brad's Min/Maxed Paladin/Monk Slaying.
207. The following weapons are not legal choices in a duel: Steamroller, Nerve Gas, Landmine, Midget.
208. I cannot whine about the crappy selection of magical bec de corbins.
209. My Paladin's heraldry is not a smiley face.
210. My Antipaladin's heraldry is not Mr. Yuk.
211. If at any point if my dwarf takes on the mannerisms of Macho Man Randy Savage, he dies.
212. If the party always starts the adventure in a tavern, I cannot opt to start in a brothel.
213. I am not the patron saint of common sense.
214. There is no prestige class Drizzt Slayer.
215. They do not make heavy weapons in pump action.
216. There is an upper limit to the number of Bozo boostergangers I can get in a Volkswagon.
217. If the weapon is capable of staking vampires hiding behind engine blocks, I can't have it.
218. No matter my alignment, organizing halfling pit fights is a violation.
219. In formal introductions to royalty, I must not introduce my companions as just "The Other Guys".
220. I am not the master of the low blow or the gang up.
221. If I get that Yugo up to 120mph again, that's gonna get some paradox.
222. Druids are not against my religion.
223. I cannot convince the Solo he has a cortex bomb when he really doesn't.
224. I cannot insinuate elf chicks are all easy, even though you never hear about a half gnome do you?
225. I am forbidden from monologuing.
226. Troll bubblegum...bad idea.
227. My last wish cannot be "I wish we were playing another game."
228. I cannot use my time machine to hire Hitler a hooker in 1920, thus avoiding WW2.
229. Not allowed to spontaniously check if the elf can take a punch.
230. There is no such thing as monofilament tooth floss.
231. I am not allowed to do anything that would make a Sith Lord cry.
232. It is not possible to recreate any scene from Dr. Who in Crinos.
233. If I am the medtech it is generally assumed I am going to have skill in medicine.
234. My character does not get d34 HP a level.
235. My Samedi is required to have dots in obfuscate. Plural, as in more than one, two more than none.
236. My character has no need for 24,000 cartons of cigarettes, especially in his neighbor's garage.
237. Not allowed to use more than 3 words per game that the GM has to look up the definition.
238. My bard cannot play or has ever heard of the theremin, didgeridoo or glass armonica.
239. My rockerboy cannot play or has ever heard of the theremin, didgeridoo or glass armonica.
240. Any character with more than three skills specializing in chainsaw is vetoed.
241. Cannot use the jedi mind trick to get out of a speeding ticket.
242. Not allowed to give quicklings Mountain Dew.
243. Cannot cast haste on the king during a long winded speech to get him to hurry the hell up.
244. Not allowed to taunt the rest of the party in 8 different languages because they forgot to take any.
245. Not allowed to attend any opera whose name the GM confuses with a strip joint.
246. I cannot keep selling that creepy guy's always naked elf chick to nomads every chance I get.
247. If the king rewards me with a forest, I am to assume he intends for me to keep it a forest.
248. There is no Halfling god of groin shots.
249. If a black op requires me to impersonate an employee, I cannot bill the target for overtime.
250. Superfluous Man is not a viable superhero concept.

Why I Love My Wife

The shower in our new house has a glass door. The top crossbeam that holds the glass door in place is right at head-level. When I'm half-awake (or not paying attention), I've cracked my head on it. It hurts. A lot. I curse about how much I forgot to duck.

My wife had a solution.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I love my wife.

Back Again, Again. Again.

Another con marked off the to-do list this year. This time it was a direct flight to Chicago, but I ended up getting back about 1 AM last night so my boss thankfully let me come in a little later this morning (and I'll be leaving a little early today). That means I get my coffee allotment before I come in. I've had a productive morning, wrapping up the first draft of a little project that's been simmering on the back burner for a while.

I've begun drinking Perrier water. I think my dad would have a conniption if he knew that (and since my mom reads this from time to time, she'll probably tell him. Just goes to show you Cosmo was right: there are no more secrets). The reasons for doing so are twofold. First, I like unflavored sparkling water. I ran into it by accident at a convention, and realized I like it. Second, it's cheaper and healthier than booze. And we can get it for a song at Costco, so why not? A bottle a night runs me exactly 51 cents. Now average that against a can of beer, or a bottle of wine, and I'm already a winner!

This weekend I was a naughty monkey diet-wise. I was in Chicago in a part of town with absolutely zero restaurant options, so I ended up having pizza a couple of times. I admit, my body responded to the carbs better than I expected it would. I haven't gotten on a scale to gauge the effects of my little binge, and I won't be able to until tomorrow, but I don't think the damage is that permanent. Looks like this week is going to be a seven-gym-day kinda week.

I'm really looking forward to this weekend. It's going to be the first time I'll be home and I won't have any real obligations for, well, a long time. The Skeleton Key opens this weekend, and I'll probably catch an early show of it. It's the first movie I've wanted to see in the theater since Batman. I'm also looking forward to The Brothers' Grimm next weekend - I read a very favorable article about Terry Gilliam in Time, and the movie sounds right up my ally.

I wish I had more to report creative-wise, but most of my energy there has been devoted to developing a campaign for a roleplaying game I'm going to run with the Thursday group. Jon inadvertatly gave me a great idea, which has since (he'll be happy to know) mutated into something completely different - but I'm very excited about the results. The background story for the campaign is byfar the most extensive I've ever written (it's my Pirate campaign world, brought into the mid 1800s, with a whole new Threat To Humanity that Only the Characters Can Stop). I've got five pages of background materials and notes, and even more on the various NPCs in the game.

In fact, looking over it all, I can't help but shake the feeling that the world would make a great novel - or even a series of novels. I toyed with the idea of developing some of the stuff from my Pirate campaign into a story or something longer, but since I started with only the most bare of skeletons and grew the world on impulse rather than plan, it never seemed appropriate. Now that I've got the history of this little Earth (it's really our own planet, just with a whole bunch of stuff that never made it into the history books), I could conceivably set a story there pretty much from any point after the dinosaurs became extinct until, say, 100 years from now.

In case you can't tell, I'm kind of proud of myself!

Pimped My Ride

Yesterday marked the close of the car-theft debacle, when I finally got my car back from Car Toys with the stereo installed. The circle is now complete.

I splurged a little bit to get a slightly better stereo than the one I had. My new one has an adapter for the iPod. This means there is a wire sticking out of the back of my glove box. I can plug my iPod into this wire and it begins charging my iPod. I then close the glove box, iPod inside, and I control the whole kit and kaboodle from the stereo itself.

When I got home last night, I called my roomies out to the car and made them listen.

I have to admit, this may be the one good thing that has come out of this whole experience.

Walk Like A Zombie

I have to admit, ZombieWalk 2005, just a short jaunt up the road in Vancouver on August 27th (that's a Saturday, it starts at 4 PM) sounds like a hell of a good time. I'm trying to figure out why I should not attend.

Anyone out there in the Puppet Show audience care to attend with me?

Brain-Game

I admit, I'm rapidly becoming addicted to Urban Dead because I can play it in easy, five-minute bits at lunch at the office. I currently have three characters: a zombie, a cop named Hoover, and a firefighter named Groosome. The firefighter has the most experience so far, because you don't have to reload his axe the way you reload the cop's gun. I want to make one more character, a human who goes around killing humans.

Say "hi" if you see me online.

What If The South Won?

I admit, a mock-documentary about the South winning the Civil War sounds pretty cool, but the execution seems a little harsh (and childish, by reducing the Civil War to a slaves-only issue). Still, this might have promise. If you've got the IFC, you might want to check it out.

The Hand That Rocks

Stores like this make me want to have kids.

Or, to play dress-up with all of my friend's kids.

TV: Over There

Over There is FX's second kickass new series (the first being 30 Days by Super Size Me's Morgan Spurlock.) I finally got around to watching the first episode of Over There on the DVR tonight.

A few months ago, I made a declaration that good writing on TV is dead apart from cable shows like Deadwood and Carnivale.

I was wrong.

Over There takes no sides but the soldiers' side. It showcases the lives of eight soldiers sent to Iraq, fighting the war we're reading about in the headlines. I personally cannot account for its accuracy, but damn if it seems like they got it right. Rather than take opportunites to club the audience over the head with dialogue that "explains" what's going on and what the characters feel, the directors (wisely) let the actors carry themselves. Watching the subtle change in expression on a soldier's face after he kills his first insurgant - seeing a bit of his humanity fall away - was powerful stuff.

Not for the faint of heart, but highly recommended if you can watch it.

A Weekend Getaway

Yet another weekend I didn't spend at home. I had to ditch Jon's birthday bash on Friday to prepare myself for a weekend at North Cascades National Park. Which is to say I collapsed in bed about 8:45. I'm actually very glad I did, because I would have been a cranky mess all weekend otherwise (sorry Jon! We'll go out on our own.)

So we left yesterday morning bright and early for the drive to the park. We avoided the visitor's center and made a base camp in a US Forest Service campsite about sixteen miles down a dirt road on the park's southwest side. From there, we attempted a 4.5 mile hike over a mountain (!) and to an alpine lake. The hike switchbacked through some incredible forest and through an alpine meadow, cut through by a glacier-fed stream. We made it as far as the meadow - about 2 miles in - before turning around. We gained about a thousand feet in elevation, and the insects - mosquitoes and flies - in the meadow were chewing us up and spitting us out.

Still, it felt good to do the hike and I could definately tell that my exercise is paying off. I wasn't winded, stopping only for some reasonable rests, and had the bugs been less thick and we thought to bring more water, we very likely would have finished the hike.

But we didn't, and went back to camp for an evening of Liz-cooked great food, cards, and sitting around and bullshitting. A good time was had by all.

This morning we broke camp and made our way into the park, stopping at Diablo Lake, an artificial reservoir created by a dam. We hit a trail there up to a hill with an excellent view of the lake. The elevation gain was only about a third of what we did yesterday, but it was nearly twenty degrees hotter (in the low 90s) and we really felt it. The hike was a little shy of two miles one way, almost all uphill. The views were worth the climb, but by the time we got back we were pretty pooped. Later, after we got home, I spent a nice hour fighting heat sickness with cold rags, ice packs, and a cold shower. I'm better now, but I've got to quit underestimating what I need to do these kinds of things (more water, more rest, better AC in the car when we get back).

Gee, do I have to go to work tomorrow? Ugh.

Quote of the Day

Why I love The Peacemakers:

They were sharp enough to stab another hole in the sky,
Hard enough to make the proudest diamond sigh,
Faster than the rockets on the Fourth of July,
Strong and cruel enough to make a statue of Mary cry.

Can't wait for August 26th!

Movie: Gothika

I ignored the warnings and Netflixed this anyway. D'oh.

It started with promise and ended with stupidity. It was as if the writers squeezed the bits out of Sixth Sense, What Lies Beneath, and Session 9, added a bit of their own fecal matter, swished, and spat on the script.

I called the ending twenty minutes into the movie (really: ask my housemates). I kept hoping (quite vocally) for a cool Satanic cult or something, but it was not to be.

You have been warned.

Shaking My Fist At Fate

Take this, fate! My new iPod has arrived! Thank you for warrenties! In a couple of days, my car will be 100% fixed! I'm losing weight and I feel amazing because of my exercise! I'm working on my novel(s) again! Work is going great!

I expect the anvil to fall on my head right...

*SPLAT*

My Own Letter to Senator Clinton

Dear Senator Clinton,

Although I am not a direct constituent of yours, I have been a Democrat since I could vote and until recently thought that you would make the best choice for our party in the next Presidential election. Furthermore, I have been a longtime supporter of both you and your husband. Your success story has always been an inspiration to me, and should I end up with a daughter when my wife and I make a choice to have children, I would certainly use you as a role model for her.

However, I have been following the recent controversy surrounding and generated by your comments related to the video game "Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas," and I have begun to reconsider my support for you should our party nominate you as a candidate for the Presidency of the United States.

It seems that many of your comments are not based on actual experience with the game, but on hearsay from your political advisors and organized parental groups who also have very little experience with the game itself. This has created a cascade effect to those of us who are familiar with the game, where you have appeared - to us - as though, quite frankly, you don't have a real clue about the subject matter. The effect is that you appear to be interested not in actual examination of the game itself, or a dialogue on the appropriate avenues for dispensation of adult entertainment.

The most troubling aspect of this situation is that you chose to push for investigation not because of the game's violent aspects, but for its sexual overtones. I have played through the game twice on two different systems. Both times, the in-game character killed over two thousand other in-game characters. If the character were classified as a serial killer (an appropriate label), he would have the dubious distinction of having killed more people than any other serial killer in United States history. The methods of killing vary: running over a team of police officers with a tank and crushing them to death; walking up behind a homeless person and slitting his throat; or even beating a woman to death with a bouquet of flowers.

More troubling is that the game has been on store shelves since late last year. Rockstar Games has an exclusivity agreement with Sony - for the first six months of sales, the game is only available on Sony's Playstation 2 console system. Therefore, one can only conclude that since you did not lead an inquiry into "San Andreas" late last year or earlier this year, that the thought of murdering an entire squad of SWAT team officers is socially acceptable - but the idea of having sex with a significant other is not. Intentional or not, that is the message you have communicated to our nation's youth - far more damaging, in my opinion, than seeing two adult video game characters make a choice about whom they wish to have as a sexual partner.

To further complicate matters, the sexual content you have described is only available on one gaming system - the personal computer. It is not available on the Playstation 2 or Xbox systems, nor will it ever be due to Sony and Microsoft's dilligence regarding the protection their source material. But the game does not come ready-made to simulate sex right out of the box, either: a user must find a third-party-created program called a "mod" (short for "modification"), as the publishers of "San Andreas" gave the user no way to access the sub-routine for the sexual content otherwise. As Rockstar has said, the sub-routine was originally supposed to be included in the game, but was removed without taking out all of the code. A third party found the code and exploited it - something for which you can hardly hold Rockstar accountable.

Unfortunately, the examination of "San Andreas" has resulted in the ESRB giving the game a different rating: "Adults Only" instead of its original "Mature" rating. This change has crippled Rockstar's sales of "San Andreas," as many stores will no longer carry the game because of it. However, this decision was not based on the game's ability to simulate cutting open a homeless person's throat with a knife and watching them bleed to death on the street, it was based on nudity and simulated sexual content that a user couldn't even access without an unauthorized third-party program. Again, if I were a teenager who understood the situation, I would look at the adults responsible and think "these morons are the ones in charge of my country?"

Additionally, other games featuring even more explicit sexual content - "Singles" and "The Playboy Mansion" - continue to carry the "Mature" rating, leaving one to conclude that "San Andreas" has been unfairly demonized by people who just don't know better.

Senator, what the United States needs is not politicians using a hot-button issue they do not fully understand for political gain. Rather, we need a dialogue about how a village of people (yes, I've read your book and I agree with it) need to support each other to prevent children from making poor decisions regarding these kinds of entertainment.

Parents need to be aware of what their children are purchasing and playing, or of what they are purchasing for their children. Clerks at stores need to know when it's acceptable to say "no." Teachers need to watch for warning signs that children might not be able to seperate fantasy from reality. These, Senator, are the kinds of long-term solutions that will lead to a healthy American society, not the kind of cheap political posturing that unfairly singles out one form of entertainment over another for the sake of gaining a few votes in the Red states. Frankly, those kinds of tactics are what seperates you from the Christian Right - until now, you have been the kind of politician to encourage dialogue and long-term change.

Senator, I urge you to educate yourself on the topic you have chosen - over so many other more relevant topics like the Iraq war, rising costs of health care, minimum wage, and campaign finance reform - and reconsider your stance. You are in a position to encourage the kind of dialogue we need. But, as you have seen, you are also in the position to cause trouble based on - pardon the phrase - your own ignorance of the topic.

Because you are still in the position to do the right thing and win my vote in the next Presidential election.

Sincerely,

Jason Mical

Open Letter to Senator Clinton

Seth directed me towards this excellent op-ed piece about Senator Douchebag's "investigations" into Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas, which is shaping up to have some fairly profound and unforseen consequences for my industry. The FTC investigation is the most troubling.

Money quote from the op-ed piece:

Of all the games that kids play, which ones require the most mental exertion? Parents can play this at home: Try a few rounds of Monopoly or Go Fish with your kids, and see who wins. I suspect most families will find that it's a relatively even match. Then sit down and try to play "Halo 2" with the kids. You'll be lucky if you survive 10 minutes....

Consider this one fascinating trend among teenagers: They're spending less time watching professional sports and more time simulating those sports on Xbox or PlayStation. Now, which activity challenges the mind more — sitting around rooting for the Packers, or managing an entire football franchise through a season of "Madden 2005": calling plays, setting lineups, trading players and negotiating contracts? Which challenges the mind more — zoning out to the lives of fictional characters on a televised soap opera, or actively managing the lives of dozens of virtual characters in a game such as "The Sims"?

Once again, I see good things being ruined by the stupidity of a few. Someone's always got to piss in the soup, it seems.

A New Dictionary - The Omnificent English Dictionary In Limmerick Form

There's a move to update OED now
A huge daunting task, so you see how
If there's help you can give
for as long as we live
(And your turn could come up any day now.)

Album: Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers: Americano!

Arizona band Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers is one-half of my favorite 90s band, The Refreshments, and 1/2 of another band called Dead Hot Workshop that never made it big outside of the Phoenix area. They're a nice mix of country-alterna-rock (think Reverend Horton Heat, but a tad more traditional) and some Mexican-influenced "salsa rock," and a little less poppy than The Refreshments were.

In preperation for their upcoming show in Seattle, I downloaded their new album, Americano!, from iTunes. While I've enjoyed listening to the Peacemakers, they never became as obsessive for me as The Refreshments used to be - but damn, Americano! is one fine album.

Standout songs: Switchblade, one of Clyne's signature ballads about self-destruction, and Your Name on a Grain of Rice, one of his postmodern love songs.

This one is going to be in my lineup for quite a while, methinks.

My Brush With Serial Killers

When I lived in Granville, my neighborhood butted up to an apple orchard where my friend and I used to go to liberate fruit from the trees in the summertime. I mentioned this to my parents during their visit, and somehow we got to talking about the large house right next door to the orchard - an enormous rural farmhouse with an equally-large guesthouse right next door. The house was empty most of the time I lived there, and it was only occupied in the last year or so I was in Granville. I saw it on my trip back in 2001, and it looks great - nothing like the decrepit structure it had become while I was there.

I knew vaguely from stories that the person who lived in the house was killed by someone shooting him while he slept on the couch, and then robbing him. After that, the house sat empty.

But it wasn't until I Googled it this afternoon that I realized that killing was part of the late-1970s string of serial murders called the .22-caliber murders. Two brothers apparently killed people as a pair, robbing them afterwards. The person who lived in this house was Jenkin T. Jones, who was killed April 8, 1978.

And it seems that the last of the two killers died in prison last year.

I wish I had a picture of the house, it was an amazing structure and beautiful in that sinister, Midwestern-gothic sort of way.

Return to Normalcy

I have exactly a week of normalcy. It is being gobbled up with work and plans to see friends. Seeing friends is the best way to spend this time.

I haven't mentioned in a while that I'm still hitting the gym at a rate of about 5 times a week (a little less when I'm travelling). I'm at the lowest weight I've been in about four years - since my wedding. Next stop, lowest weight since I came back from New York. After that, lowest weight since Freshman year of college. And then, lowest since high school.

And the best part is, it's totally do-able if I eat well and exercise. That's really all it takes.

After that, I'm working on my posture.

The Size of the World

One of the things that struck me as I was wandering around the San Juans last weekend was that, although people of 150 years ago often did not leave the 20-mile radius of their homes, the kinds of homes they owned were far more diverse than what I think of "property" today. For example, my backyard - although large by Seattle standards - is really nothing more than a big grassy area with some trees, a rock wall on one end, and an overgrown area on the other end. Contrast that with a 160-acre farm, which could contain forests, streams, rock outcroppings, and so forth.

I find it difficult to conceive of owning a piece of land so diverse, and being so familiar with so many different kinds of things within my own property - but by many standards, I'm much more "worldly" in that I've travelled to different continents, been all over the US, and have made a tradition of going to Canada every summer.

Passion 2?

I still haven't seen The Passion of the Christ (it's in my Netflix queue though!) but Mel is already looking to do a follow-up of sorts: a movie set in ancient Mexico, using unknown Mayan actors, entirely in Mayan.

The movie buff in me is intrigued!

Movie: Fantastic Four

OK, this didn't suck nearly as bad as I thought it would. I expected a festering sore on the anus of cinema (stolen from Mr. Cranky) and I ended up with a passable movie. I admit, in the fight on the bridge I was thinking, "come on, Stretch, you can save that guy! Go Ben, lift that firetruck!" which ups my GQ (Geek Quotient) exponentially. The whole Von Doom / outer space thing I didn't really care about. The only thing I really didn't care for was the love story between Reed and Sue, and the contrived "past" they had - it really didn't fit Reed's character at all. Oh well.

I'll buy it when it comes out on DVD. Take that as you will.

Book: Harry Potter

There's a new Harry Potter book? Really? I might have to take a break from my funnybooks to check it out!

Seriously, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince struck me as much for its great editing as it did for the story. The last two books, especially Goblet of Fire, were overlong, rambling, and very poorly edited, and reading through Half-Blood Prince, I kept thinking about how much tighter it was - the prose was tighter, the storytelling was tighter, and the action was tighter. I saw the ending coming from a mile away (at least as far as character death is concerned), and I still don't think it's all that meets the eye. I'm curious to see how she wraps it up. Overall, the book is surprising in its maturity not so much for its subject matter but the ways it handles the subject matter. And because I can't say it enough: the writing was so much better.

Some authors might disagree with me, but having an editor who has the cojones to say "no" is one of the most important things a good writer can have.

Zombies Online!

Halfway between a MUD and MMO is Urban Dead, an online text-based zombie MMO (according to them - to me, it's a MUD with pictures).

On an Island, In the Sun...

We took a break this weekend and hit the San Juans with my parents (San Juan Island itself, and Friday Harbor in particular). We found a nice little guesthouse that was about halfway between a hostel and a B&B, which made for a nice stay. We explored Friday Harbor thoroughly and hit the San Juan Islands National Historic Park, where the US and the Brits almost went to war over a shot pig (remember "54' 40" or Fight! That's this place.) It was just a very relaxed and peaceful trip - I can't remember the last time I just chilled out with my parents and had so much fun.

Today, I'm back at work. Icky.

iPod Fix

My iPod has delivered yet again - this time by still being under warrenty! So I'm getting a replacement iPod this week. The only cost on my part is the time it takes to download my library again.

I Smell Sex and Violence

So Rockstar Games originally programmed a sex sub-game into Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. On the PS2 and the X-Box, this wasn't a problem because the old code couldn't be unlocked (OK, it probably could but only by 0.001% of the overall gaming population). But on the PC, it's a huge problem because you can sort through the code, figure out what's there, and then make a "mod" (a modification program) to make it accessible.

So that's what someone did. This "explicit" sex sub-game was originally part of the game, taken out but most of the code left in. Someone "modded" it to go back in, and politicians like Hillary Clinton, looking for a cause, latched on and said "no way."

Now, for a little perspective.

This isn't a porno film. It's characters rendered from polygons - boxes and triangles - doing sexy things. So there's no close-ups, no money shots, no pearl necklaces, no DVDA, no golden showers. It's a sub-game.

And this sub-game resides in a larger game. This larger game is quite violent. I have, in no particular order:

Run over and entire SWAT team with a tank, squishing them.

Stood on the front steps of a casino with a sniper rifle, shooting pedestrians in the head.

Beaten people to death with a bouquet of flowers (I'm not making that up).

Driven a combine harvester around a farm and sucked the workers into the machinery, grinding them to a pulp.

Walked up behind a homeless person and slit his throat with a knife.

Randomly killed sunbathers on the beach for money.

But all of that stuff? That's OK. It's only a sub-game where characters made from triangles and squares simulate the act of procreation that's bad.

How bad is it? Rockstar bowed to pressure and re-rated the game "Adults Only," which will kill its sales in almost every market because the vast majority of stores will refuse to carry it. Apparently the "MA" rating - for Mature Audiences (17+) - wasn't good enough. I'm not surprised, since I've personally witnessed clueless parents purchasing this game for their 10-year-olds - and act, I might add, that led me for the first time to fantasize about carrying out the fantasy violence of video games in real life, because if there's any people who need to be beaten to death with a bouquet of flowers, it's people who purchase games like San Andreas for their 10-year-olds.

I must say that I lost a lot of respect for Hillary Clinton for her response to this. One of the reasons I did not vote for Gore in 2000 was Lieberman's opposition (Inquisition) to Mortal Kombat back in 1993. I'm sorry to say that Miss Clinton will not receive my vote should she decide to run for president for this insipid attempt and political grandstanding through hypocrisy, double-standards, and misinformation.

Let this be a lesson: kids, remember, driving a combine around the beach to grind people to a pulp is OK. But if you want to engage in a sexual act with a person you're dating, no way!

And parents: for fuck's sake, buy a clue about the games your kids are playing! If you don't start taking some responsibility, those of us who do are gonna be screwed by your laziness when none of us will have access to fantasy entertainment.

Trailer: Mirrormask

I'm getting very excited about Mirrormask, the upcoming Dave McKean / Neil Gaiman / Jim Henson Co. project. McKean is probably my favorite living artist, and Gaiman's stories, while they can get a bit repetitive in theme, are always interesting. Check out the trailer here.

Murder Most Foul

My prodigious record for murdering electronic devices has grown yet again - two within twenty-four hours this time. My iPod quit working in the middle of a Rage Against the Machine song yesterday, and my DVD player has decided to quit being anything resembling a DVD player.

But that's not the bad news.

My parents are coming into town this weekend.

I've been cleaning so obsessively, my hands feel like leather gloves from the bleach.

Oh yeah, and here's another piece of good news: I somehow managed to lose my wallet. It occurred to me this morning that I should probably call the credit card company and see if there's any strange activity on the card. I'm pretty sure I lost it in the house, or maybe the car (last remembered sighting of wallet: when I showed my ID to the rental car people at the airport). Maybe I'll try calling them too. It leaves me with no ID, no way to get into the gym, and more importantly no way to pay for anything.

Edited to clarify: the bad news about my parents' visit is the work I had to do on top of returning from the con, not the visit itself.

Posting on the Internet

Sometimes my job requires me to post on the Internet. This means I have to deal with the fact that 99.9% of the Internet is stupid.

I present for your satisfaction a picture that embodies what it is like to do this aspect of my job.

Book: Carter Beats the Devil by Glen Gold

Rather than a magical-realistic book, Carter Beats the Devil is a bit of historical fiction where stage magic plays a major role. The title character, a magician known as Carter the Great, grows from boy magician to one of the most reknowned stage illusionists of his time, lauded by Houdini and loved by audiences. The book is a bit of a thriller, and it's got my favorite kinds of things: elaborate conspiracies, over-the-top villains, protagonists who outsmart their self-righteous opponents, and more.

It's whimsical at times but carries with it a serious undertone, but manages to avoid being heavy-handed. First-rate writing combined with an excellent story. Check it out.

Hellboyalicious

OK, here's a quickie from Comic-Con. Electric Tiki, a design company I'd never heard of, had a prototype of this incredible Hellboy statue on display. I'll be purchasing one.

1001 Posts

My post count hit 1001 this morning. I wish Blogger still had the word count feature, I want to know how much time I've squirreled away on this blog.

Spokesme

I know I don't post much about my job here, but I had to bring your attention to this article where I'm quoted as WizKids' spokesperson. My boss joked that "it's now official." I guess it only took two and a half years. I gotta say though, I'm pretty proud of getting the word out about this promotion we're doing - it may be the best PR campaign I've run so far.

Back Again, Back Again

I'm fully back from Comic-Con. It was, overall, an interesting show and fun most of the time. The last day, towards the end, where everyone was extremely tired and cranky wasn't as much fun, but whaddyagonnado.

I'm four chapters away from finishing Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince and I'm ready to sleep right now. I'll post something more substantial tomorrow, hopefully between working and gaming.

Good 'Ol Comic-Con

Another Comic Con. Highlights from this year: Greg Rucka (writer for the Adventures of Superman, Wonder Woman, and more) is a huge fan of our Pirates game and signed a comic over to me after I gave him a free Pirates ship. I attended an amazing panel with Richard K. Morgan (author of Altered Carbon), which ended up being like a master class where he gave me some excellent one-on-one advice about editing my novel and finding an agent. I ran into Bruce Campbell's kid in the elevator. And I've seen several interesting Electrical Tape Girl variants. I have to get a phone with a camera so I can share the awesomeness that is Comic-Con with my readers.

I'm having a great time, and I keep thinking: man, I could be doing PR for a yard rake company at a convention. My blessings are many!

What's Up Doc?

So last week I got back from Origins, and my in-laws came into town, so I had to squeeze a week's worth of work into three days. Last weekend was relaxing at least - I crashed around 9 PM on Friday and slept until about 9 AM on Saturday before tackling some Grand Theft Auto. The rest of the weekend was spent intermittantly with Liz, cleaning or arranging the house, or shooting gangstas.

Yesterday was an Alliterates meeting which I thought I was going to have to miss, but I managed to haul ass down to Renton about 7:00. This would have been an easier task but we still don't have our car back. Story goes like this: State Farm didn't want to pay to fix our speedometer/odometer, because it wasn't immediately obvious the break wasn't a part of the theft. I explained that we weren't the kind of people who would let our speedometer break and not do anything about it, and they said "oh no, it's not that - it might have been ready to break and simply done so after the theft." So their theory was that sometime in the half-tank of gas between when my car was stolen and after it was recovered, the speedometer, which was on the verge of breaking, went kablooie. On a 2003 car with 40,000 miles on it. Not that the speedometer breaking had anything to do with the fact that Mr. Duane Bates of Sea-Tac ripped (literally) my stereo out of my car and shittily installed his own stereo.

So asshole insurance company considered the matter closed and made us give up our rental. But, if we wanted to try to prove the speedometer was part of the theft, we could take the car to a Mitsubishi dealership and have them start to work on it.

That was a week and three hundred dollars ago. Yesterday we got a call: it was most definately related to the theft. Congrats, asshats, you wasted your own damn money and my damn time because you wouldn't cough up initially to fix the speedometer, which you will now fix, in addition to the hundreds of dollars it took to examine what was wrong with the speedometer, in addition to the rental car I should have been driving the last week.

Movie: The Stepford Wives

The original is one of my favorite horror-comedies, so I was pretty reluctant to see the remake. There's just something about the subtle mix of zeitgeist and twisted thinking in the 1975 version that makes it timeless, and by the end of the movie you realize that the main character has ignored every opportunity for escape and has been doomed to her fate.

The remake is not subtle. It's about as un-subtle as a brick to the back of your head. For the first hour or so, it plays like a farcical version of the first Stepford Wives. Then, it goes into new territory for the wrap-up - not a bad choice overall, but I still felt like the writers sat around saying, "you know what, I don't think people get it, let's make it more obvious!"

So rather than a classic of subtle and timely horror, we're left with a minor thriller. It still has its moments, but I wanted better.

Movie: Napoleon Dynamite

I'll give it one hilarious line that made me fall out of the couch I was laughing so hard:

Do the chickens have large talons?

Otherwise, I think I've known too many people like the main character to laugh at his geekiness - he just made me cringe instead.

Movie: They Came Back

I bought this movie because it was billed as a "thinking person's zombie movie." That should have been my first clue. Also, it's French, and with very few excpetions, I am not a fan of French movies (and no, it has nothing to do with them being French, it has everything to do with them being about a) sex, b) cheating on a significant other, or typically c) both.) But I picked it up anyway - the premise sounded great. Thousands of people who died within the last ten years have come back to life, and the loved ones they left behind are trying to grapple with having these people back in their lives. They aren't the flesh-rot maggotty zombies, these are (as the original French title suggests - apparently too cerebral for us dumb Americans) Revenants. Revenants are more like ghosts, and have a purpose when they come back. So too do these undeads, but that purpose is never really very clear.

I felt the movie lacked any kind of payoff. They spent almost an hour and twenty minutes building tension to a near-breaking-point, and simply dumped a pile of poop in my lap that really smelled bad.

I wouldn't recommend this movie to anyone. Although, in its defense, the directing and acting was top-notch - there were a good deal of very long shots where the actors did a lot of complicated stuff, and you don't often see that in movies these days. So credit where credit is due and all that.

Book: Last Call By Tim Powers

Last Call is the first of two Seth-recommended books I read on my recent trip to Ohio. Magical realism, done well, is one of my favorite genres and Last Call certainly didn't disappoint.

It's set in Las Vegas, and the story is a re-imagining of the Fisher King in modern times. It practically drips with symbolism (and T.S. Eliot references); the main character is fighting for his soul in games of poker played with Tarot cards. Bugsy Seigel makes a guest appearance.

My own experience in Vegas was that of a city with a severe lack of soul. Powers paints a far differet picture, finding a kind of spiritual meaning in the mundanity of randomness, applying complexity theory to cards, dice, and roulette wheels as the storm gathers around the soul-searching lead.

The prose is lush, and Powers does an excellent job of not wasting a word.

It's not an easy book to summarize, but it's a hell of a lot of fun. If you dig magical realism, you'll want to give it a read.

Sad

My thoughts are with the people of London this morning, a city I once called home.

The Gamer Purity Test

A couple of months ago, InQuest Gamer ran a "gamer purity test." The good folks at that publication have now put it online. Ever wanted to know how pure of a gamer you are? Take the test.

Me results:

You scored 39%

20%-39% You have enough con swag to fill a small warehouse. You at least thought of pawning that autographed InQuest on eBay to cover another month of EverQuest.

Yeah, that's about right.

Zombie Pics

From Seth, an online photo gallery of zombie pictures.

Roman Fact of the Day

Roman armies were sub-divided in two different ways, one before the reforms of Gaius Marius and the other after the reforms.

Before Marius, 80 men made a Century. Two Centuries made a Maniple, the standard military unit of manuever. 25-30 Maniples made a Legion. Before Marius, a Legion would be between 4000-4800 soldiers.

After Marius, 80 men made up a Century. 6 Centuries made a Cohort, the standard unit of manuever. 10 Cohorts made a Legion. After Marius, a Legion would be exactly 4800 soldiers.

The Fall Itself Wasn't So Bad

It's just the sudden stop at the end.

Yesterday, NASA's Deep Impact probe smashed a lander into comet Tempel 1, driving a device (the "impactor") into the comet's nucleus to determine what's there.

NASA has released an incredible movie from a probe's-eye view as the impactor approaches the comet and slams into it (culled from various pictures).

Next Morning

I should have taken out a video camera last night. Imagine the best fireworks show ever mounted by a city, then put it in 360-degree panoptivision (or something), and then it lasts for hours.

Last night's crankiness aside, I have a feeling I might have enjoyed the show more if I was in lawn chairs in my front yard watching the spectacle (and notice I'm not necessarily referring to the fireworks) than inside after being on the road for six days, averaging about four hours of sleep each night, and after having returned at midnight left at six AM for Canada to get my in-laws, whom I feel like judge me at every possible opportunity.

On this, my day off, I'll be dealing with getting my stolen car back from the shop, trying to convince the insurance company that indeed my speedometer did work before Mr. Duane Bates stole my car, and taking my inlaws to the airport.

Celebrating the 4th

Here's one way to celebrate what it means to be an American: turn your neighborhood into a little section of Baghdad. That is what my neighbors have been doing all day long - literally, since we returned from Vancouver at 3 this afternoon with Liz's parents, fireworks have been going off constantly. Yes, these are the kind of fireworks that make a loud "boom" without much shiny stuff (because, as I write this, it's still pretty much daylight here). So imagine, for six and a half hours, being entertained - in fact, having the time of your life being entertained - by things that make a loud "boom."

This, friends, is Redneck Amerikkka.

Watching this mixture of NASCAR fumes, Pabst Blue Ribbon, Trans Ams and zero brain cells, I'm finding it exceptionally difficult to put aside my feelings of superiority.

But first, I'm keeping an eye on my new house, making sure I don't have to put out any fires caused by my neighbors (illegally) celebrating the birth of our nation.

Somehow, I doubt that Ben Franklin, Tom Jefferson, and George Washington would have been entertained by loud booming noises for six and a half hours.

In fact, it might have made them wish for the sensible dictatorship of a monarchy.

Pardon the New Template

This is only a stopgap while I figure out why the old one suddenly got retarded.

A Question

Here's an interesting question. You've got a friend you know relatively well. Your friend is married. Completely by happenstance, you happen upon your friend's spouse kissing - petting - with a person who is not your friend.

Do you tell your friend, or just erase it from your memory and forget it?

As far as I know, this does not concern anyone who reads this blog, or anyone who anyone who reads this blog knows.